


Plus One

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek Hale, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek receives an invitation to what should have been his ten year class reunion, he panics a little.  He’s barely got his life together and the invitation specifies a plus one.  Thankfully, Stiles is there to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stilinskisparkles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskisparkles/gifts).



> December Fic Spree, Day 14: Gift for Stilinskisparkles/Felicitysmock.
> 
> Happy December 14th!

Stiles propped his ass on the corner of Derek’s desk, shifting his gun belt so his holster would stop gouging him in the thigh. “Hey, man, you ready for lunch?”

Derek looked up from something he’d been reading, a vulnerable expression on his face. “Yeah, I just—” 

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, instinctively moving into a protective stance. 

“It’s nothing. It’s not…” Derek bit his lip, staring blankly at his nameplate. “You remember I got called out last week to help Mrs. Ferguson? Her terrier got—” 

“His head stuck in the fence trying to go after Mr. Oh’s cat? Yeah. Did she send you fan mail or something?” Stiles craned his neck, trying to see the paper, but Derek was holding it with the top flipped down, and all he could make out was some gold embossing. 

“No, she told her daughter. Megan Ferguson was the class president when I went to BHHS and she, uh. She’s organizing the ten-year reunion. She sent me an invite and…” Derek held up the paper, looking fragile and helpless, which was quite the accomplishment for a werewolf who was composed of only muscle. Not to mention the fact that he was a fully fledged officer of the law, with a gun and everything. “And this.” 

Stiles took the paper from Derek’s lax fingers, scanning it swiftly before going back to reread it, his heart breaking a little for Derek. 

>   
>  _Dear Derek,_
> 
> _I don’t know if you remember me, but we had several classes together sophomore year. I was Paige Krasikeva’s best friend._
> 
> _I know you weren’t able to graduate with our class, but as far as the rest of us are concerned, you’re an alumnus of BHHS, Class of ‘06. Our ten year reunion is next week, and as the committee chairperson, I would like to extend you the enclosed invitation._
> 
> _I’ve already reserved room at the pre-event dinner for you and a plus one._
> 
> _Please come. We’d love to have you._
> 
> _Warmest regards,_
> 
> _Megan Ferguson-Swift_

Stiles sucked in a ragged breath of air as soon as he’d finished reading and carefully folded the paper along its original creases, trying to organize his thoughts. “Okay,” he said, forcing his lips to curve into a facsimile of a smile. “Looks like we’ve got lunchtime conversation in the bag!” He took Derek’s return grimace as acquiescence and dragged him out of the office. 

Curly fries wait for no crisis. 

— 

Stiles waited ‘til their plates were placed carefully in front of them, smiling at Dawn, their waitress, when she cautioned them to be careful of their hot plates. “Thanks. One day I’ll warn you we’re coming so you can babyproof Derek’s side of the booth.” 

Dawn blushed, shaking her head, and scurried off to take care of some new customers who’d just been shown to her section. 

Looking up, Stiles saw Derek frowning at him and automatically wiped his face, even though he hadn’t touched his food yet. “What?” 

“You shouldn’t flirt with her like that unless you mean it.” 

“What? I wasn’t flirting!” And then, considering the implications of Derek’s warning, hissed, “Wait, why? Does she like me?” 

“Does she _like you?!_ " Derek snorted. "What is this, high school?" 

"A wild subject change appears!" Stiles crowed, then sobered, pointing a finger at Derek. "But don’t think you’re off the hook." 

"Yeah. Heaven forbid. Like you need a bigger head." 

"Please. You love my head." Stiles grinned cheekily at Derek, who just rolled his eyes. "Okay. High School. _Reunion._ Leaving aside how fucking _old_ this makes you… I have a few questions.” 

Derek shoved a huge bite of country fried steak in his mouth, gesturing at Stiles to continue. 

“The first, most important one is: do you _want_ to go to your reunion?” 

Derek chewed way longer than normal, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back, staring into the middle distance. “I think,” he finally said, his voice sounding heavy, “yeah. I want to go. I mean,” he shrugged, “I grew up with these people. They were friends, teammates, classmates.” 

“Okay, so why did you look like someone ran over your dog earlier?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of cheeseburger. 

“I guess it just hit me.” 

Stiles reached across the table at that, patting Derek’s hand gently. “Yeah, dude, you’re old.” 

Derek’s scowl knocked the last of the melancholy off their conversation, putting the world back on an even keel. “Asshole,” he muttered. “No, I mean, look at my life. One of the guys I was supposed to graduate with _runs_ Microsoft now.” 

“Holy shit,” Stiles whispered. “Mark Jeffries? The guy that finally killed Internet Explorer? I knew he was from Beacon Hills, but…” 

“Yeah. So, I mean, in comparison, my life is shit. I live in a one bedroom, run down loft apartment which the city keeps trying to condemn. I can’t even _talk_ about my past relationships, because Jesus, there’s a clusterfuck. I just started working for the first time last year. I don’t have a degree. I _barely_ have a GED. I mean. Shit, Stiles, she’s reserved space for a _plus one_. I haven’t had one of those since _you_ were in high school.” 

Stiles shrugged. “So don’t bring one.” When Derek’s eyes bugged out at that suggestion, Stiles huffed and said, “Or take one! What do I know?” 

“Yeah? Who do you suggest I take?” Derek looked around sarcastically. 

But Stiles’ brain was already whirling, a thought coalescing that made him want to vibrate with excitement while also numbing him from the knees down in a sucking sort of dread. Looking down at his mangled burger, he cleared his throat softly and said, “You could take me.” 

— 

The night of the reunion arrived sooner than Stiles was ready for. Not that he wasn’t _prepared_ for the night; he and Derek had locked down dates and places for all their supposed firsts, but for all that preparation, Stiles wasn’t mentally ready for the closeness and intimacy he was going to be practicing all night with Derek. 

When they finally pulled up to the hotel where the reunion was taking place, Stiles reached out and covered Derek’s hand with one of his own. “Do you remember your panic signal?” 

Derek twisted his hand under Stiles’, bringing his thumb up to clasp Stiles’ fingers. “Yeah. Thanks for thinking of that. I think I’ll be fine, but…” 

“No thanks necessary, man. Also, I jotted down some key information on these note cards, just things about the people we’ll run into that stayed around town—” 

“Oh my god, Stiles, you’re ridiculous.” Derek pushed him lightly toward his door before gracefully exiting his side and coming around to wait for Stiles to fumble his own way out. Trying to escape the grasp of the Camaro was difficult on a good day. 

When he was finally on his feet again, Derek gently shut his door behind him and took Stiles’ hand in his, smooth and easy, lacing their fingers together as they started across the parking lot. Panicking a little at the feel of Derek’s hand in his, Stiles started muttering the details they’d hashed out over the last week. 

“We’ve been dating for six months, since just after I started working at the station. You’ve known me since I was a kid, but didn’t take a second glance until you saw me in my uniform, all grown up and bad ass.” 

“You know I’m not going to use the phrase bad ass, right? No matter how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me tonight.” Derek slid his gaze toward Stiles, his lips quirking at the corners as he squeezed Stiles’ fingers. 

“Dude, a free meal and a chance to watch you boogie on the dance floor? Wouldn’t miss it.” 

“Boogie? On the dance floor? If those are your expectations, I hate to burst your bubble, but—” 

“Hush,” Stiles said, reaching up and laying a finger from his free hand over Derek’s mouth. “Don’t ruin my fantasies.” 

For all their banter, though, Stiles couldn’t help but notice that the closer they got to the reception room inside the hotel, the tighter Derek held his hand. When they finally got to the opened doors, Stiles had to actually whisper for Derek to loosen his grip, afraid his bones might end up ground to dust. When Derek dropped his hand completely, eyes a little too wide, Stiles smiled softly and reached down, wrapping his own fingers around Derek’s. 

The first person they saw was, of course, Megan Ferguson-Swift. She smiled at them, a little too polite, and gestured at the table where over a dozen nametags were laid out in alphabetical order. Stiles found Derek’s name first, plucking it from the table and turning to pin it on his chest. When they turned back again, Megan’s eyes dropped to Derek’s chest and her entire expression turned radiant. 

“Derek!” she exclaimed. “Oh my god, I didn’t even recognize you under all that hair!” She reached up, as if to touch Derek’s cheek, then stopped, a pretty flush pinkening her cheeks. “You just look so different.” 

Stiles tilted his head, examining Derek. He’d seen pictures of Derek that were taken around the time he was in high school, and honestly Stiles vaguely remembered him from back then, so he tried to see past all that to the changes that time had made to Derek’s features. And he was slightly taken aback to realize that, had he not been an active part of Derek’s life for the last four years, he might not have recognized him either. 

“I’m sorry,” Megan was saying now, rolling her eyes at herself. “You’re probably starving and I’m sitting here blocking the door. You and your date,” she looked at Stiles for the first time, flashing a bright grin at him that he couldn’t help but return, “are at table ten. And Derek?” 

Derek paused, eyebrows arching up his forehead. 

“Thank you for coming.” 

For the first time, Stiles felt Derek relax against him as Derek leaned forward, brushing his hand over Megan’s elbow. “No, thank _you_ for inviting me.” 

As Derek began to escort Stiles into the room, Stiles heard Megan call out, “Be sure to save me a dance later!” 

Under his breath, Stiles whispered, “Hah, sucker. Told you you’d be boogying on the dance floor tonight.” 

— 

Dinner was winding down, the conversation having finally progressed past the stiltedness of people who had nothing in common forced into a social situation. Conversation was finally flowing freer, though Derek had stepped away to use the men’s room. When Stiles had looked up at him, concerned, Derek had dropped a hand to his shoulder, squeezing, and let him know that he was fine. 

Stiles couldn’t help tracking Derek with his eyes, just in case someone cornered him. Also because Derek was dressed in black fitted trousers with a soft green button down shirt that did amazing things for his eyes. Stiles sighed softly, smiling at the woman beside him, Veronica, who was telling him all about her three year old. 

He was pretty sure she was talking about a kid, but he worried it might actually be a dog, so he kept his responses as neutral as possible. 

It was her husband, though, who decided to use Derek’s absence to start probing deeper into his life. “So,” he said, leaning forward, eyes bright with avid curiosity, “you’re here with Derek.” 

Stiles nodded genially, taking a sip of the wine that had been served with dinner. “I am,” he finally said, when it appeared the guy wasn’t going to continue. 

“Your dad’s the sheriff, right?” 

Slightly taken aback, Stiles hesitated before he said, “Yeah, that’s right. Sheriff Stilinski. Derek and I both work at the sheriff’s department, but—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Derek said he’s known you since you were a kid. Did you meet the night…? I mean, with his family…” 

“Jay!” Veronica admonished, face crumpling with horror. 

Stiles set his jaw, anger stirring inside him at this callous idiot. “Excuse me,” he said, dropping his napkin onto the table and moving to get up. But the man reached out, grabbing Stiles’ arm, his expression contrite. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… he’s had a rough life, man. When it happened, I mean. He didn’t even come back to school, it was like he dropped off the face of the earth. So it wasn’t like his friends could comfort him or anything and I thought… I hoped, really, that someone was there for him that night. I thought maybe you two…” He shrugged and looked at his wife, like she could help him find the right words for this. 

But she didn’t need to because Stiles understood. Deflating a little, he offered Jay a little smile and said, “I wasn’t there that night, no. But my dad was. And Derek’s sister, Laura, was with him. I’m not going to say that made it easier, but he did have someone.” 

Jay nodded, eyes locked on the table. “I’m glad,” he said, his voice slightly gruff. “It was really horrible.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “It was.” 

Silence descended until Veronica laid her hand over top of Stiles’. “But he’s got you now,” she said, smiling gently. “You seem to love him very much.” 

Stiles smiled back at her, a little taken aback by the question. For all his lack of filter, he had nothing on these two. “Yeah, I mean. I trust him with my life. How can I do any less with my heart?” 

Veronica sighed, smacking Jay lightly with the back of her hand and muttering, “Why aren’t you that romantic?” 

Jay just rolled his eyes, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and squeezing. “You didn’t marry me for my way with words, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t I know it!” She laughed, winking at Stiles, who couldn’t help letting out a little chuckle himself. 

Just then a hand dropped on his shoulder again and he twisted in his chair to see Derek standing behind him, his smile looking a little wooden. “They’re playing our song,” he said, holding out his hand, and it wasn’t until Veronica laughed a little too loud that he took it and stood. 

“The Police?” Veronica was saying to their retreating forms. “Really?” 

Stiles blinked, looking back at her before focusing on the music coming from the speakers and then he had to muffle his own laughter. “Every Breath You Take?” Stiles asked, turning toward Derek when they hit the small rectangle of a dance floor that had been set up in the middle of the ballroom. “Yeah,” he murmured when Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and started swaying to the music. “I can totally see it. You were such a creeper that first year…” 

Derek smiled again, and again there was something off about it. He didn’t look upset really, just… _odd_. 

“Hey, man,” Stiles said, squeezing his shoulders and jostling them the tiniest bit. “You okay?” 

Derek blinked and dropped his eyes from somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder to meet his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, filled with what sounded like wonder. “Yeah, I’m great.” And then his smile widened into something real, sparkling in his eyes and lighting up his whole face. His hands tightened on Stiles’ waist and he leaned forward, brushing their cheeks together. 

They stayed like that, just swaying together, the only couple on the dance floor, until the song was over. When a new one started up, something more recent, Stiles tried to step back, but Derek held him there. 

“What’s wrong, dude?” Stiles asked, concern growing. “If you just need a breather from all the people, that’s totally cool. We can stay out here as long as you need. But you need to talk to me, okay? Let me know what’s going on.” 

Derek’s lips parted, a little gust of air passing between them that stirred the hair on Stiles’ forehead. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. I will. But let’s…let’s dance first, okay?” 

Stiles stared at him a moment longer before nodding slowly and moving back in, letting Derek envelop him in those strong arms again. Using the cover of their ‘relationship,’ Stiles snuggled closer, dropping his forehead to Derek’s shoulder as they swayed. Derek buried his nose in the place just behind Stiles’ ear, his breath making shivers run up and down Stiles’ spine. 

Just when he thought Derek wasn’t going to say anything, he felt Derek’s lips moving against the shell of his ear and heard, like an afterthought, “You weren’t lying.” 

“Hmm?” Stiles asked, slightly drowsy from the low music, the slow dancing, and the warmth of Derek’s body pressed along his. 

“When that woman asked you, just now, if you loved me… you weren’t lying when you said yes.” 

The words took a beat too long to register, and then it was like ice water filled Stiles’ veins. He pulled back, tried to get away, but Derek was still there, his hold unwavering. “Derek,” he said, his pulse skittering frantically. “I don’t…” 

“Stiles.” Derek lifted one hand to Stiles’ face, brushing his thumb along Stiles’ bottom lip. “How long?” 

Stiles looked down, looked away, looked anywhere but at Derek. “I…” 

“I just wonder,” Derek said, taking pity on Stiles, “because I don’t remember when what I felt for you turned into love. I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you far longer than it’s been legal,” he murmured. 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. “You… really?” 

Derek’s nod made the knot of panic in Stiles’ chest recede, and the emotion that swelled up in its place nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. Derek’s nostrils flared and his eyes burned a bright blue for a split second before he got himself under control again. Lowering his head, he nuzzled the side of his face against Stiles’ cheek, his voice sounding a little gruff and breathless when he said, “It’s a good thing you took notes. The next time we come to one of these, they’re going to wonder why our story is different.” 

Stiles curled his body into Derek’s, muffling his laughter against Derek’s wide shoulder. 

When the music changed, Derek fit his fingers under Stiles’ chin, lifting it gently and tugging until Stiles’ parted lips met his own. They were still there two songs later, wrapped up in each other, sharing soft kisses as they swayed around the dance floor. 


End file.
